


Gamma Shift Superfight!

by Telesilla



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Based on a Tumblr Post, M/M, superfight!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3553325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of Captain Kirk's junior officers spend their down time together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gamma Shift Superfight!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophiahelix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/gifts).



> They're playing [Superfight!](http://www.superfightgame.com/) because I faked too damn many poker games for fic back in my Trek days. Superfight! is a totally fun take on Cards Against Humanity type card games; you build fighters based on random character and attribute cards and then everyone argues about who would win in a fight.

"Have you lost your damn _mind!?”_ Buster quirks his eyebrow for effect and leans back in his chair.

"Hey, no fair," Belt says as everyone else laughs. "You're from the same part of Earth as Doctor McCoy, aren't you?"

"Same state in the old USA," Tim says. "Which is totally cheating."

"No it isn't," Buster says. "It's all about inflection and not just accent." He reaches for the box of cards and starts shuffling the black ones. "You work for him--did I get it right?" he asks Hunter.

Hunter nods. "Pretty close," xe says. "I could do better, but I'd have to break the rules and actually take on his form."

"Quit dicking with the cards, Posey. I got this box from the Ensign Duong; it's new to us," Tim says. 

"They still need to be mixed up some," Buster says.

Tim ignores him and turns back to Hunter. "You ever do that?"

"What?" Hunter says. "Take on Dr. McCoy's form?"

"God, you're as literal as a Vulcan sometimes. Have you ever taken on someone else's form? I mean besides the one you use now."

Buster starts in on the white cards.

"Xe can't do that. It's not just a Starfleet rule," Pagan says. She looks at Hunter. "Right?"

"Right. It's part of our treaty with the UFP. We promised not to take the form of any living sentient being."

"Um...do you...." Belt pauses and watches Buster arrange the cards. "Never mind," he mutters as Pagan draws her cards.

"No, it's okay," Hunter says.

"Do you just make forms up?" Belt's face is a little red above his beard. "Sorry."

"We have...I don't know what you'd call them." Hunter looks at Tim as Tim frowns at the cards he just drew. "Shi hesh la mian."

Tim stares at the ceiling the way he always does when he's translating, "Them who....no, those who remember forms. I assume that's an actual title, but titles are hard to translate."

"That's close enough." Hunter turns his attention back to Belt. "They maintain a sort of mental database of forms. When we leave home, they teach us a form, but not one of any living being. So I look like someone who's been dead a long time." Hunter ducks xyr head a little. "Most beings find that kind of creepy."

"I dunno," Belt says. "It's kinda like immortality for the beings you choose, you know?" 

"Blue cards this round?" Pagan asks.

When Tim nods, Buster pulls a blue card and tosses it on the table. "Underseas Research Station," he says.

"Because we can't read," Tim mutters.

"You gonna put your cards down, Lincecum? Or are you just gonna bitch and moan?" Even as she speaks, Pagan puts down a black card and a white card.

"Seriously?" Belt says. "A sushi chef swinging a two thousand kilogram tuna? How'd you get that lucky?"

"She's fucking cheating," Tim says as he puts down his own cards--a poltergeist who commands an army of disposable minions.

"You're the one who got the box," Pagan says. "Does everyone know what a sushi chef is?"

"What, like we didn't all live in San Francisco for four years?" Belt says. He turns back to Hunter. "Do you know who he was? Your guy?"

"A xenoanthropologist who was part of the Federation's First Contact team. He agreed to have his form remembered."

"That's actually pretty cool," Belt says and Buster nods, because maybe he knew all this, but still, Belt's right--it is cool. He wonders what that long dead scientist would think if he saw "himself" serving as a medical officer in Starfleet.

"Ha!" Tim slaps down the black card he drew out of the box. "Armed with surface to air missiles. Beat that!"

"Fuck," Pagan says as she puts her random black card down.

"Do we even have to argue?" Tim asks. "I mean a sushi chef swinging a big ass tuna in an underseas research station is totally cool, but now she's wrapped in bubble wrap going up against my poltergeist with his army of minions armed with missiles."

"Your army's not armed with missiles," Buster says. "That's just your main guy."

"What's a poltergeist?" Hunter asks.

"A ghost," Belt says.

"A specific kind of ghost," Tim says. "They move stuff around and generally annoy the people in the house they share." He pauses. "They're mythical. Not like Menhari ghosts."

"Menhari ghosts aren't spirits of the dead," Pagan says. "They're semi-sentient energy beings."

"I know that," Tim says.

"I didn't," Buster and Hunter say, more or less in unison.

"Can a poltergeist even fire a missile?" Belt says.

"They're the only ghosts who can move stuff, for Goddess' sake." Tim throws his hands up in the air. "They do shit like play ghostly pianos."

"Firing missiles is kinda different than playing a piano."

"Yeah," Tim says. "It's like, a hundred times easier."

"That depends," Belt says. "Does your poltergeist have any kind of guidance system for his missiles? Or are they low tech, point and shoot SAMs, like a rocket launcher?"

"Can we please talk about how my guy, who also has an army of disposable minions in addition to missiles, is going up against a sushi chef in bubble wrap armed with a big dead fish?"

"The tuna could still be alive," Hunter says. "How big are tuna, in real life?"

"A big one's around six-fifty," Buster says. "So her tuna's fuking huge. But since the fight's not actually taking place in water, I think we have to go with the tuna being dead."

"Dead or alive, it's still a _fish!"_ Tim taps his cards and then Pagan's. "Fish versus missile launchers. I dunno about you guys but I like my chances."

"How about your chances after one of your missiles punctures a hole in the research station's hull?" Buster asks. "Water falls, everyone dies."

"It's 'rocks fall, everyone dies,'" Tim says almost absent-mindedly. He looks over at Angel. "Are you going to concede any time soon?"

"It doesn't say what kind of bubble wrap," she says. "It could be the high-tensile stuff."

"It's still not going to stop a missile," Hunter says.

"I dunno," Belt says. "We should do an experiment. For, you know, science." 

"Oh yeah, for science," Pagan says, rolling her eyes. "And not because you like shooting things. Just let me know when you ask for permission to expend a missile, because I want to see the captain's face just before he turns you down."

"Are you kidding?" Hunter says. "He'd want a front row seat. Commander Spock would have to talk him out of it."

Buster can't help laughing, because, yeah, he can totally see that happening. 

"What constitutes an army?" Pagan asks Belt. 

"Jesus, that like me asking you: "what constitutes a ceremony?' It's all about context." Belt pauses and frowns. "If you're trying to figure out the number of soldiers...it's usually a pretty significant number compared to the size of the general population."

"Yeah, but how many of them fit in this station? And what are they armed with?"

"It doesn't matter; they're disposable," Tim says. "My guy will just keep sending them in until you're overwhelmed."

"Also, the sushi chef has to have at least part of her face exposed so she can breathe," Hunter points out. "So eventually they'll be able to get to her."

"Yeah," Buster says. "Hate to say it, Angel, but your chef is gonna lose this one."

Belt and Hunter both nod. "Sorry," Hunter says.

"Yeah, I figured." Pagan sighs, but she's smiling too. "Still, she was an awesome fighter."

"She really was," Tim says. 

Buster leans back in his chair as Hunter draws his cards. Someday, he thinks, he'll command a starship. It's not ego, or not exactly; he's on the fast track and everyone knows it. And so is everyone else in this room. Not for the first time, Buster hopes they'll all end up together. 

He can just see it--Hunter as his CMO, Pagan as his Science Officer, Belt as Weapons Officer and Head of Security, the other Brandon as his Engineer and Tim...Tim as his Comm Officer and partner. Maybe they'll be married by then. 

"What?" Tim says.

"Nothing," Buster says, blinking a little. "Just thinking."

As Hunter lays down his first cards--the player to his right (Belt) who throws water balloons filled with acid--Buster feels something against his leg. It's Tim; he runs the toe of his boot down the back of Buster's calf and smiles at him. 

Yeah, Buster thinks. This--these people, this career, this lover, a ship like this ship--he wants all of it. And he'll work as hard as he can to get it.

_-end-_

**Author's Note:**

> For a first line prompt. [Sophiahelix](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiahelix/pseuds/sophiahelix) gave me: "Have you lost your damn _mind!?”_ and asked for "Buster/anyone, space au." Obviously Star Trek came to mind and I liked the idea of Buster  & Co. as the third (gamma) shift officers aboard the _Enterprise_ in the TOS days. This scene is based very loosely on one in the TNG episode "Lower Decks."
> 
> Just in case you're curious, Buster's from Georgia; Pagan grew up on the Moon; Tim's parents were scouts who either dumped him with various relatives or took him with them on their missions; both Brandons are from the same generational ship and Hunter, obviously, is a shape shifting alien. BCraw gets a mention, but I couldn't work one more character into the scene, so he's on duty.


End file.
